As he gained control and began his final drop to earth, he engaged Cam. “Our friend Archie tried to take me for a ride. I’m back on track.”
Her voice was calm. “I see you. I’m in the water a quarter mile away from the ship. The swales are twenty feet, but the wave pattern is fairly spread apart. That’s gonna change.”
Gunner instinctively glanced to the east in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the eye wall from the approaching side of the storm. All he could make out were the lightning strikes in the wall.
“Thousand feet,” Gunner began the countdown to the water’s surface. “Five hundred. Two-fifty. A hundred.”
His radio went silent. He plunged into the Gulf and dropped thirty feet below the surface. The reserve chute traveled with him. Now that the tension was relieved, he could easily disconnect the chute, and with the aid of the watertight pack attached to his back, he quickly shot to the surface.
He was immediately greeted by a swell that lifted him higher into the sky and then rolled past his body, dropping him back into the valley created by the next one.
“I’m good,” he announced.
Bear’s voice came over the comms for the first time. “You looked like you were flying drunk.”
“I almost puked,” Gunner said with a laugh.
Ghost joined the conversation. “Gunner, you’re approximately three miles off course. You’re gonna have to drop twenty feet below the surface to catch up to Cam. Ditch your pack and shoulder your weapon. The watertight, PVC-lined fabric of its case will protect it.”
“Roger that,” said Gunner. At first, he struggled with removing the pack, as the swales seemed to be coming more frequently the longer he treaded water. Once it was free, he was able to unpack its contents.
He put on the tactical chest rig designed for use by Navy SEALS. The waterproof pockets kept his magazines and ammunition dry. His sidearm was enclosed in a hard-plastic case attached to the front of his chest, which also was waterproof.
Gunner readied his Draeger LAR V underwater breathing apparatus. It was compact and streamlined. Most importantly, it provided him forty minutes of travel time at a depth of less than one atmosphere, or thirty feet.
He positioned his diver propulsion vehicle toward the blip on the radar representing Cam who was now a hundred yards off the starboard side of the Victory, Following his telemetry, he dropped to twenty feet below the inky surface waters. He squeezed the trigger on his DPV and slowly gained speed.
He was completely surrounded by darkness. The only illumination was directly in front of his eyes as the telemetry and radar tracked his progress. He was moving in the direction of the Victory at a steady eight-mile-per-hour pace. He constantly monitored his depth, direction, and time. They were now twenty minutes behind schedule, and by the time he rendezvoused with Cam, they’d be up against their boarding window before the worst of Hurricane Archie’s powerful winds on the right side of the eye wall hit.
Gunner broke the surface only a few feet from where Cam floated with the use of her backpack. “Miss me?”
“I got bored, so I popped open a beer,” she replied. Gunner couldn’t see her face, which was covered by her helmet, but he knew she was smiling.
“No drinking on the job, people,” said Ghost into the comms.
“Come on, dad,” groaned Cam playfully.
Jackal joined the conversation. “Guys, the storm has accelerated slightly. The eastern wall will be on you withing twenty minutes.”
Gunner took in a deep breath of salt air. “No rest for the weary. Cam, we’ll ride the DPVs as close as possible.”
“They’ve left the ship adrift,” said Cam. “The least these assholes could do was turn the bow into the swells. Between the broadsides of the waves and the wind twisting the vessel, I bet there are a lot of people hugging the toilets on board.”
“Let’s roll,” said Gunner.
He and Cam started their DPVs and accelerated next to one another toward the Victory’s aft transom. Six minutes later, they were in sight of the ship when suddenly the exterior deck lights went dark.
“Thanks for that,” said Cam.
Gunner nodded. “Yeah, no shit. Switching to NVG.”
They floated in the water, scanning the ship for activity. Cam was the first to report what she saw.
“I see movement on the main level near the lifeboats.”
“Got it. A struggle. Three people.”
“Confirmed.”
“Let’s go.”
They allowed their DPVs to float away. The ship’s transom had two ladders clamped to the transom. With the ship rocking, they risked getting knocked unconscious as they attempted to board. Using their hands, they pushed against the starboard side of the hull and maneuvered themselves toward the rear.
Just as they reached the side of the transom, they heard a man shouting in Spanish and a woman screaming. Seconds later, her nude body flew over the edge of the ship and splashed into the water between Gunner and Cam. They frantically swam to save her. She was floating facedown in the angry waters of the Gulf. When Gunner turned her over, Cam was the first to see the dead woman’s slit throat.
Chapter Fifteen
Late August 1944
The Wolf’s Lair
Near Rastenburg, East Prussia (Present-day Poland)
Steel-reinforced concrete seemed to follow Hitler like a catchy tune swirling in a person’s mind. The Third Reich had mastered the art of bunker building. The Allied forces’ superior air forces were a constant threat to the Nazi leadership. Therefore, the ability to withstand surprise attacks from the skies was of tantamount importance. Almost all of der Führer’s various residences and headquarters, from Wolfsschlucht II in eastern France to Wehrwolf in Ukraine, were constructed to withstand intense bombing while still being able
